In a fantasy that will never become reality...I want to support him in his life change by pointing out that, despite the galactic depth of the hole he dug for himself in years gone by, his growth has eclipsed hers in a major way. I suspect he doesn't need me to point this out...but it would still feel good.

Just leave out the comparison to the ex. "You know, you have managed to write a much happier ending for yourself than I dared imagine for you, when I first knew you."

OK, this movie just had a plot twist even more ridiculous than I would have thought possible: the imaginary friend is actually the husband's mistress, who is helping him drive his wife crazy. And the wife just killed her.

Good counsel, Andi. I'll do just that. He deserves the praise, regardless.

Really? He looks younger than that to me.

Right? Yeah. He's too squishy still to be a year...though I'd love to have a more accurate estimate. Too bad you can't carbon date animate objects...or, you know, anything less than thousands of years.

Hil, I did not expect that. How is it that Lifetime movies are so terrible? I can only imagine that they're written for people who aren't really paying attention to the story, and are only kinda watching as they run about doing busy things. This is how my sister used to watch movies. Jumping up every 2 minutes to rush off and do something, falling asleep 20 minutes in, waking up ten minutes from the ending, asking what happened? They need movies with a simple plot, few and simple characters easily distinguished from each other, much repetition and exposition, short scenes, and direct dialog. This is my theory, which I just made up.

Wait, the imaginary friend isn't the husband's mistress, she's an old patient of his, who has multiple personality disorder. But he was having an affair with her, too. And she told the wife what was going on, and the two of them are now teaming up to make the husband think that he's crazy.

Okay, forget the "simple plot" part of my theory.

Once in a while, I've enjoyed one. But it's pretty rare. they generally seem to have some embarrassing moral they want to hammer home. Dear Married Editor Who Flirts With Me: You want to turn me on by talking about me in the shower, and making juvenile "wet" jokes. Are you *kidding*? I like you, kinda, but hang onto your wife like grim death. your protegee, e.

Tom and I spent most of the afternoon lounging around and then I actually got him out the door to go into the Marigny to a club called Siberia, which serves "Slavic soul food." which means pierogi and strogonoff and paprikash! My idea of walking down a few blocks to wander around Frenchmen Street was rejected, but still, glad to get him out and about.

We are all settled in at the beach house. This house is so swanky, y'all, it has an *elevator.* I am not even joking. Our bedroom is on the second floor and goes out onto a huge veranda. This is way too nice for the likes of us. My headache is basically gone -- it was more or less abated by yesterday evening, and today it's just done that weird thing where I'm fine for hours, and then get a little flutter of pain, and then I'm fine again. So it's basically gone.

For those not on FB, here are a few pictures from our trip:

The ocean-facing side of the house (and Tim). Seriously, swanky as HELL.

The pier behind the Jolly Roger hotel.

The view from our bedroom's veranda, just as it started getting dark.

Super swanky! Glad you're having a good time.

Mmm, I want Slavic soul food.